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Halo: Indelible Past/Chapter Twenty-Nine
The landing platform hummed with activity. Everywhere Autel looked, warriors were checking their weapons and gear as they waited for their turn to embark. Phantom after Phantom swooped in to take on their assigned lances, who filed on in terse silence. They were about to have their revenge for the thousands murdered these past few days. The helplessness they had all felt was gone. There would be no more surprise attacks, no more dropships shot down by Phantoms or Spirits they thought were friendly. The human vermin who plagued Sanghelios were finally within their reach. It had been a long time since Autel had felt so eager to launch an assault. The days when he would dream of glory on the battlefield were long gone, burned away by a lifetime filled with endless wars and betrayals. There was no joy to be had in violence, only the peace that followed. It felt good to foresee some real victory in what they were about to accomplish here. Beside him, Fira shifted anxiously. Some of Autel's advisors had called for the army officer to be left out of the operation after his disastrous efforts to take Mordred, but Autel would hear nothing of it. There was no one he would rather take with him into a battle like this. "None of this would have been possible without Mordred," Fira muttered, uncharacteristically anxious. "I never thought I would actually owe that miserable human anything." "I wonder if he knows just how many lives he saved by bargaining with us," Autel replied, but he wasn't as certain about their new informant as he let on. Does any of this make up for bringing us into war with the Path Walkers? "I gave him my word," Fira said for what seemed like the thousandth time. "The arrangements have already been made," Autel said as another Phantom lifted off to join the circling assault team in the skies overhead. "Mordred will be taken into our protection after we have defeated these rebels." "He isn't the only one we need to find there," Fira reminded him. "Tuka is still missing. I refuse to believe he is among the dead." Autel rested a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Then we will get him out." He heard a small cough behind him and turned to find Deno standing at a respectful distance. The aged spymaster rested his weight on a cane in one hand and held a holo-tranceiver in the other. "Best of luck in the assault," he said. "If you can, try to save any technology you find for me. My agents might be able to glean some useful data from it." "You can have whatever's left after we've burnt those rats' hideout down around them," Fira growled. "We won't soften our approach just to save a few human computers." Deno parted his mandibles in a wan smile. "As I said, only if you can." He turned to Autel. "Some rather urgent news for you, Autel. A human intelligence vessel just arrived in orbit. They put in a call for you specifically." Autel frowned. "For me?" What did the humans want with him? "The human on the other end told me he was an old friend." Deno offered Autel the transceiver. "When he identified himself, I came directly to you." ** "Felix." Autel looked and sounded surprised. It had been a while since he'd last spoken to the Sangheili war hero, and he hadn't exactly called ahead to announce his arrival. "This is surprising, to say the least." "I'd have contacted you sooner, but I didn't even know I was headed here until two days ago." Autel inclined his head. "I do not mean to appear rude, but we never requested human assistance here. I understand how our current troubles might concern you, but..." Felix glanced at Rosch. They were holding the call in the shuttle's main bay, right beside the Pelican dropship. Jake and Ralph stood on either side of a seated Cassandra, who alternated between looking at Autel and examining the floor. "We're not here to help you with the rebels," he explained apologetically. "I wish we were, but right now we're hunting a UNSC traitor." Autel was quiet for some time. Beside Felix, Rosch shook his head. "I'll never trust these things." "Not after last time," Ralph muttered in agreement. "This traitor," Autel said slowly. "He doesn't happen to go by the name Mordred, does he?" "Yes." Felix didn't like where this was going. He could still see the footage of G294 amidst the rebel carnage. Had they been too late again? "Why? What's he done?" he asked, rubbing his hair wearily. Autel looked him square in the eye. "He saved an entire city from a rebel strike and he is currently providing us with the means to strike at their base of operations." Jake blinked and nearly dropped his helmet. "Simon did what?" "Oh dear," Rosch muttered. "I don't like where this is going." "The one called Mordred has requested protective custody in exchange for his cooperation. I am sorry, Felix, but we have given our word that our agreement will be honored." "Of course," Ralph grumbled. "I should have known he'd weasel out a deal like that. He always pulled shit like this back on Onyx, that son of a bitch." Rosch raised a hand and stepped into the holo-terminal's receiver. "Pardon the interruption, but the way I see it he is still accountable for launching the current conflict with the Path Walkers." "That is true," Autel admitted. "I can't say I am comfortable with simply forgiving him for our recent troubles." "You agreed that you would take him into protective custody," Rosch continued. "But if it is no longer in your power to do so, say, if Mordred did not survive that long..." Autel gave the officer a long, piercing stare. "What are you suggesting?" "I think you could use some extra troops for whatever you plan to do with these rebels," Rosch said smoothly. "I hope you haven't extended the protective custody just yet." ** They took cover under a small outcropping of boulders that overlooked one of the Sangheili homeworld's great red-hued plains. Several rivers meandered across the gently sloping grasslands, but David Kahn focused his rifle's scope on a small sinkhole two miles away. According to the intel the Syndicate had provided, this was where his--no, their--target would be. He glanced down at where Nimue had taken up a position to watch their flanks. Encased in the lightweight body armor she'd been wearing when he found her, the young woman scanned the rear with her own rifle. "We'll hit them in three hours," he told her. "Jam their sensors, then slip in and nail the target. In and out." "Copy," she replied without looking away from her visual patrol. "Stick close to me once the shooting starts. We'll try to minimize contact, but anyone we run into needs to go down fast." "Copy." "If the Sangheili crash the party, we bug out fast and observe from a distance. The contract just wants us to make sure Venter's dead, even if we aren't the ones who pull the trigger." "Copy." She hesitated, then looked up at him with those odd brown eyes of hers. "I've done this before. By myself." "Good to know." Of course she would want him to know what she'd done since he'd left her. That was all she had ever wanted, to make him proud. The thought of it disturbed David more than a little. Is that where I failed her? Did I make her too dependent on me? I should have been more aloof when I trained her, brought in more outside help to keep her from being too attached to me. It would be more than a little ironic to have her kill Venter. David had only ever managed to glean bits and pieces of the shit Nimue's creator had put her through before bringing her to him, but the man had a lot to answer for as far as she was concerned. Because you don't... his mind told him treacherously. Nimue seemed to have the same idea, because she looked up at him again. "When he's dead, they won't look for me anymore, right?" "Not these guys," David agreed absently. "You'll find more people to piss off in this line of work though. Count on it." "But when this is over... can I stay with you?" He blinked and looked back down at the girl he had put his heart and soul into raising. My legacy... When he'd betrayed Venter and turned his private assassin into a freelance merc, she'd just been a vanity project. She still was, in a way. Once Nimue reached her full potential and replaced him as the best contract killer in the underworld, the whole galaxy would know exactly who had trained her. The name David Kahn would live on, just as it had when he'd assumed that identity all those years ago. Increased exposure wouldn't be a good idea. He could see that plain as day. But now... His hands tightened on the rifle as he tore himself away from his daughter's plaintive gaze. Yeah, she's my kid alright. Maybe I didn't put in the genes, but I made her all the same. "Yeah," he said finally. There had to be another way, a way that didn't involve throwing her out on her own again. She goes with me until I can't go anymore. It'll help her cope when the time comes to be alone. "Yeah, you can stay. Once Venter's dead and we're off this rock." You can stay." ** The Pelican rocked in its cradle as the shuttle's automated systems prepped the tight hangar for launch. Ralph was in the cockpit performing the preflights with Rosch while Jake and Felix checked the team's gear in the troop bay. "I hate atmosphere drops," Jake said offhand. "I'd always puke when they made us do them back on Onyx. I thought I'd gotten it out of my system after we graduated, but then my first one on active duty I hurled right inside my helmet. Mary never let me hear the end of it." "Mary?" Felix asked absently, checking their cache of rifles. "She died on Mamore, with Terrence. And Simon." Jake's voice held none of the bitterness Felix had heard back on the Mother of Invention. "She and Ralph were always getting into fights. He wasn't half as insubordinate as he is now with her around." "Oh." It was strange. Felix had always made a point of befriending the Spartan-IIIs, yet now that he was actually attached to one of their squads it was one that he knew next to nothing about. Jian was a furnace of raw emotion kept in check by some strange blend of callousness and unwillingness to be seen as victims. It was an odd mix, to say the least. "I'm sorry." "Don't be." Jake shrugged. "I got over it a long time ago." He glanced over at where Cassandra was sitting in one of the troop chairs. Rosch had let her keep her stripped-down armor, but he'd insisted that she have her hands bound for the entirety of the mission. Felix hadn't been given any orders about what to do if she really did turn on them when they met G294, but he got the feeling Rosch wouldn't hesitate to have her executed. As with G294, Felix still didn't know what he'd do if that order came down. "It'll be good to get this shit over with," Jake was saying. "The others can stop pretending like we've done something wrong. Rosch was the only officer who'd let us do real field work after we lost Cassandra." Faceless behind her helmet, Cassandra didn't say a word. Jake looked back at Felix and shrugged again, but he was easier to read than he let on. He was genuinely hurt by her silence. "Prepare for immediate departure," Rosch ordered over the intercom. "We will enter communications with the Sangheili strike team, but will enter the facility separately. The lieutenant commander and I will both be linked in to their communications." Felix motioned to Jake. "Well, let's get going. Help me secure the rest of the ammunition." "It won't end with Simon." Both Spartans turned to look at the shackled Cassandra. She turned her visor to face them and shook her head. "Killing him won't make everything better. It won't all go away, Jake. It only gets worse when it ends like this." "It's the only way this can end," Jake replied huskily. "He won't be able to do any more damage. This is justice for everything he's done. You'll understand when it's over. I know you will." "Justice," she muttered, but didn't say another word. ** The Phantom sprang to life beneath Autel's feet. He felt the familiar lurch in his gut as the dropship leapt into the air and climbed towards the sky. The magnetic pads on his armored boots kept him steady as the Phantom slid smoothly into formation beside the rest of the assault force. He looked past one of the turret gunners and through the open hatchway to see dozens of other dropships soaring alongside them. Autel had been in human dropships before. Their seats were too small to fit him properly, so he had always needed to stand, but most humans rode into battle strapped in to their uncomfortable-looking metal chairs. That was one thing about the humans he would never understand: their need for such security aboard their attack ships. This is the way to approach a fight, he thought, glancing at the warriors standing or crouching around him. On your feet, always ready to fight. Fira hefted his needle rifle and ran a hand down its barrel. "I've been waiting for this for far too long." "We all have," Autel assured his friend. Turning to the rest of the dropship's warriors, he raised his plasma rifle. "We put an end to this now," he ordered. "Understood?" The warriors bellowed out an assortment of clan war cries as the attack force hurtled towards the source of Mordred's beacon. The rebels were apparently using an abandoned mine shaft, if aerial reconnaissance was correct. Irresponsible, in hind sight, to leave such an easily defensible location unguarded. But it would also be the rebels' undoing. The bulk of the assault force would secure all exits while Autel led a strike team in to clear the mine out room by room. And there was the matter of their reinforcements. Autel turned to Fira. "Have you alerted the team leaders of the UNSC team that will be joining us?" "Yes," Fira replied, but Autel could detect a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "I agree with your decision. Mordred has too much to answer for." "I assume full responsibility for this," Autel replied. "If anyone's honor is to be smirched here, it is mine." "Mordred would never have told us about the bomb if he didn't think he could gain something from it," Fira told him. "He is a coward at heart without a shred of honor. He deserves none in return." Autel looked away, back to the warriors ready to fight and die at his command. Fira was right. These were the ones he should rest his honor on. The fate of a traitor who could not begin to comprehend self-sacrifice was none of his concern. Category:Actene